Chapter 8 – March 2056 – United Nations Defense Academy Dormitory

Once it passed, eight years felt startlingly brief.

Instead of just waiting endlessly for another message from Nagamine, I searched for and chose the path I needed to walk. But that doesn’t mean I ever forgot about her.

I still haven’t let go of the phone I used back then.

Well, it’s a phone just for Nagamine, so it doesn’t actually ring anymore.

Even so, I’ve kept it charged regularly, and I haven’t once forgotten to renew the contract.

That’s why—if things go right—I should be getting a message from Nagamine in the next two or three days.

Right now, I’m sitting in my room at the university dorm, where I’ve spent the past six years, drifting in a slightly happy, dazed mood. Soft spring sunlight pours into the room. The wind is still cold, but I’ve opened the window all the way.

This tiny six-tatami room feels strangely large.

I find myself thinking back to what it was like when I first moved in, six years ago.

Somehow, the movers got the date wrong and showed up a day early. They threw all my half-packed belongings into a container and hauled them off without giving me a choice.

So now, there’s nothing left in the room. Even my bedding got packed up, so last night, I had to borrow futons and blankets from a few underclassmen just to get by. I’ve technically still got the rest of the week to stay here, but there’s no real reason to anymore.

All that’s left in the room is a travel bag with a change of clothes, and the uniform of the United Nations Space Force hanging on the wall. That one thing, I absolutely refused to let the movers take. I grabbed it back with my own hands.

This spring, I’ve been assigned to a fleet as a communications technician.

Looking back, I think the career path I chose back in my second year of high school wasn’t a mistake.

At the time, aerospace self-defense officers weren’t nearly as popular as they are now. Even so, entering the Defense Academy was a tough challenge, no doubt. I believe I got in thanks to studying harder than I ever had. That said, I didn’t expect to be assigned directly to fleet duty. Even though aerospace officers are technically part of the United Nations Space Force, getting posted to the fleet is an extremely narrow gate to pass through.

I applied to the engineering faculty’s communications department and went all the way through graduate school.

I could’ve stayed on as a researcher, but I chose to work in the field instead. That had always been my plan from the start.

I got interested in space because of Nagamine.

That’s the nice way to put it, anyway—but really, that’s a lie.

The motivations of a sixteen- or seventeen-year-old guy are way simpler than that—too embarrassing to admit to anyone.

The truth is, I chose this path because I wanted to see Nagamine again.

It’s not about love or anything like that.

It’s not like I had some grand plan for what I’d do once we met.

I just wanted to see her, confirm that she was okay, and show her that I hadn’t just waited passively for her messages—that I had taken action too. That’s all.

And… if possible, I wanted to ask her: even after nine years, do we still have something we can share, like we did in middle school?

…But, well, maybe I’m just assuming that. For all I know, Nagamine might have already forgotten about me. And if so, that’s okay too.

Just because we’re both part of the United Nations Space Force doesn’t mean we’ll ever meet again. Still, with the report from the First Tarsian Exploration Team coming in soon, they’re probably about to organize a Second Tarsian Exploration Team. I’ve heard some back-channel rumors to that effect.

And I haven’t ruled out the possibility that we might never meet again.

There’s a rumor going around.

“They’re carrying frozen sperm and fertilized eggs aboard the Cosmonaut ships.”

Human sperm and eggs, of course.

What that means is: the selected members of the first exploration team don’t have any fixed service term. They’re not expected to ever come back—not until the Tarsians are found.

Worse still, they might have to continue the mission across multiple generations, until the objective is fulfilled. Supposedly, they selected only young women for the first team to ensure they could bear and raise the next generation of crew.

It’s an inhuman, outrageous story—an utter denial of basic rights.

But right now, under emergency circumstances, even if such a thing were publicly confirmed, the public outrage might only last a short while.

By now, Nagamine might be on some distant planet, already a mother, raising a child.

I didn’t want to imagine that—but as a possibility, I had to consider it. And I had resolved to accept it calmly, if that turned out to be the case.

Still, if the Second Exploration Team was assembled with the same purpose in mind and was also made up only of women, then there was no way I’d ever be called upon to join it. For a moment, I even considered getting a sex change. But I quickly rejected the idea—what’s the point if I can’t bear children?

Either way, I figured that being out in space was more likely to lead to a reunion than staying idly on Earth. That was the simple, naive reasoning of a young man.

Over these past six years, I can’t say my resolve never wavered.

There were times I thought maybe being a regular office worker wouldn’t be so bad.

But somehow, I made it this far.

And for that, I’m grateful to Nagamine.

I’m not in a rush, but today I plan to head back home.

I thought I’d spend at least the morning here, relaxing.

The phone rang just as I was about to start packing.

***

【Hello, twenty-four year old Noboru-kun.

It’s fifteen-year-old Mikako.】

***

That was all—just a two-line message.

The rest was garbled, unreadable noise.

But even so, just the fact that it arrived at all felt like a miracle.

That Mikako’s thoughts had crossed such an immense span of time and space to reach me.

What had fifteen-year-old Mikako wanted to tell me?

Where is twenty-four-year-old Mikako now, and what is she doing?

And… what is she thinking?

I wanted to see her—desperately.